


The Avoid Harry Potter Club - Year One

by PenDragonInkus



Series: The Avoid Harry Potter Club [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur can't stand Harry either, Basically, But they may interact by accident you never know, M/M, Merlin and Arthur at Hogwarts, Merlin is unimpressed by some bespectacled kid with dead parents, So if you were hoping they'd interact and be besties... soz my dudes, also Merlin gets a baby dragon instead of an owl a cat or a toad, basically Merlin and Arthur trashing Harry and having side adventures, harry potter/merlin fusion, he got into the Quidditch Team without even TRYING, i'm so jealous and she's so cute, just enjoy the randomness that is my writing, very very very background HP plotpoints happening, when he can do MAGIC without a WAND
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-01-05 16:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21211244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenDragonInkus/pseuds/PenDragonInkus
Summary: "They say Harry Potter is on the train." Arthur says nonchalantly, stuffing his trunk in the overhead compartment, trying to ignore the indignant hoots of his owl, Archimedes."So?" Merlin asks, looking up from the book he was reading and tickling Astor, his miniature dragon under the chin, making her spit little sparks."Isn't he, like, the most powerful...""Let me stop you right there," Merlin interjects, "and swear to me that you'll avoid that troublemaker as much as possible.""Um..." Arthur eloquently replies."Because for a minute there, you actually sounded like you were in awe."ORThe one no-one asked for where our boys totally trash "The Chosen One" and get up to more mischief than the Weasley twins.





	1. The Boys Who Loved (Each Other)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HicSuntDracones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HicSuntDracones/gifts).

> Literally an idea that came up after I finished my Marry Merthur Month (shameless #selfspon) fic, and watched Prisoner of Azkaban straight after. My mind makes extremely weird connections sometimes. 
> 
> Anyway, sit back, relax and enjoy!
> 
> There will be tiny amounts of Merthur (after all, they are eleven) but I'm hoping I'll gather enough courage to slowly ratchet it up a little. (Merthur dancing at the Yule Ball, anyone?)
> 
> As always, thanks where thanks is due to HicSuntDracones, for fuelling my crazy. Dunno what I'd do without you babe. (Probably go back to not writing anything.)

_Mid-Summer, their eleventh year, Camelot Castle_

Merlin and Arthur were best friends. Their mothers were best friends, so it really wasn't that surprising. Such best friends, in fact, that their babies were supposed to be born on the same day, but Arthur was very eager to see the world, and came two weeks earlier than Merlin – and he never let the younger boy forget it.

The long Emrys line that Merlin was born from, boasted many of the most powerful witches and wizards to date. The Pendragon line, unfortunately, boasted a long line of Squibs. Sure, every now and then, a semi-powerful Pendragon turned up, but not often. (Uther Pendragon, Arthur's father, was very bitter about it, being a Squib himself.) As such, when the topic of Hogwarts Letters came up, Uther went on a rant about how Arthur probably shouldn't get his hopes up, while Hunith and Ygraine giggled in the corner.

Merlin and Arthur were best friends. They lived in rooms next door to each other, (Rooms 24 and 25 respectively in Camelot Castle) they learned their ABCs together, rode their first brooms together, (Arthur was a natural, which was somewhat unheard of for a child coming from a Squib family, while Merlin promptly fell off his broom, as soon as it started moving) so they were both hoping against hope that they'd get their Hogwarts Letters together. Merlin didn't know what he'd do without his best friend by his side, and Arthur worried he wouldn't have someone to play with any more.

Luckily, Dumbledore must have read their minds or something because in the middle of summer, nowhere close to either of their birthdays in their eleventh year, Arthur got flattened by two owls carrying their Hogwarts Letters. It was a normal day, just after lunch. Arthur was busy practicing swordfighting against a big oak at the bottom of the garden (Merlin didn't understand his fascination with acting like a “knight of old”, surely that was a muggle thing?) and Merlin was watching him, mesmerised by the light of the noon sun glinting off of Arthur's blonde hair.

“Staring is rude, you know.” Arthur says nonchalantly, not even looking over his shoulder.

“When has _that_ ever stopped me?” Merlin retorts, smirking a little. “Oh, hang on!”

“Wha?” Arthur asks turning around at the warning note in his best friend's voice.

“There's... owls.” Merlin replies lamely, as a barn owl and a screech owl land on Arthur's left and right shoulder. The poor eleven year old couldn't take the weight of two owls, even though he was pretty fit, and toppled over into the grass, disturbing a dandelion, and huffing out a swearword.

“Don't let your Mum hear that, or you'll be eating soap for a week.” Merlin says lightly, walking over to the wriggling mess of boy and feathers. “Wait there, Arthur.” Merlin orders his friend as he reaches down and offers his forearm to the barn owl.

Arthur huffs in anger, “like I have anywhere else to _go_” and Merlin barely bites back a giggle at how the other boy looks (ridiculous), with a feather stuck on the tip of his nose and the screech owl perching on his head.

Eventually Merlin encourages the owls onto one of the branches of a nearby tree, and holds his hand out to Arthur, pulling him up and helping to brush him off. Until something distracts him. Abandoning his friend mid-pat (“Thanks for the help,  _ Mer _ lin.”) he goes over to a particularly squished area of grass and extricates a particularly large envelope, quite heavy too, thus explaining why two owls were needed for delivery.

“Arthur.” Merlin's voice sounds particularly strangled and Arthur comes over straight away and reads the shimmering green letters on the front of the envelope.

_ Mr A Pendragon & Mr M Emrys _

_ Rooms 24 and 25 _

_ Camelot Castle _

_ Tintagel _

_ Albion _

“MUM!” the boy chorus in unison and go running back into the castle, the indignant owl hoots falling on retreating backs and deaf ears.

_ A Few Weeks Later, Diagon Alley _

“Okay, we've gotten your robes, you're not getting an owl, or a cat or a toad...” Hunith trails off at the disappointed expression on her son's face, and jealous glance at Arthur's brand new owl. “Oh, sweetheart.” she says, crouching down and pulling her son into her arms, whispering “your father has something better in mind for you,” into his big ears. He immediately brightened and hugged his Mum back. After a few seconds she stands and reads over the list that was enclosed in the envelope. 

“I do believe we just need to get your books, potions supplies, and wands.” Ygraine says, consulting the same list. “Tell you what, both of you go to Ollivander's over there...” she points at the dark entrance of the shop and the boys both audibly gulp. “Oh, come now.” she teases lightly, “I see neither of you are going to be Gryffindors.”

“Muuuuum.” Arthur groans. “You know that's all I want to be!” 

“I know, that's why it's called _teasing, _sweetie.” She pretends she didn't just see Arthur rolling his eyes at her. “Now, honestly, it's nothing to be worried about, Old Man Ollivander just forgets to turn the shop window lights on sometimes.” 

“Oooooohhhhhhh.” the boys chorus, all worry gone, and dodge around a very large man holding a snowy owl in a cage and a child with glasses on, looking wonderingly down at the wand box in his arms.

Opening the door and hearing the tinkle, they look around the dusty, cobwebby shop.

“Yes, young sirs.” an old man says, coming out of the depths of the shop, his elbows nearly knocking over a pile of wand boxes nearby. “Here for your first wands, I expect.”

“Yes sir.” they chorus politely, and he smiles at them. “You first, I think.” he points at Arthur who hesitantly steps forward. “I won't bite, my dear boy.” the old man chuckles, and sets off to find Arthur's wand.

_ Ollivander's Wand Shop, six hours later _

“Try this one.” Ollivander says, holding out yet another wand to Merlin, who impossibly finds something _more _to destroy. “Nope. Not that one either.”

A frustrated huff comes from the corner Arthur has closeted himself in, and his mother frowns at him.  _ He'd  _ only taken ten minutes to find his dragon heartstring, oak wand, thank you very much, but his clotpole of a friend had taken six hours and  _ over  _ to find his. And he still hadn't found it! 

All the shops had closed up, it was dark, and Merlin had five more wands to try. He did, and once again, none of them worked. The last wand actually  _ blew out  _ the shop window that Arthur was leaning against, he tumbles out into the street with an indignant squawk.

“Well, my boy.” Ollivander croaks, sounding as tired as he looked, “you must be what we in the wand business call “wanderless”. 

Merlin looks disappointed and confused and asks “does that mean I'm doing something wrong?”

“No, no, not at all!” the shopkeeper replies hastily, “it means you're so powerful, using a wand is superfluous. The wands didn't see that you actually needed them.”

“Ohhhhhhh.” Merlin says, wonder dawning on his face. Hunith pulls him into her arms and whispers “I knew it!” into his dark curls.

“This type of wizard only turns up every ten thousand years!” the old man exclaims. “I never thought I'd meet one!” 

“Well, Mr Ollivander,” Ygraine says, shaking Arthur awake where he'd dozed off on the shop window, across from the one Merlin destroyed, “Thank you for everything. Do we owe you anything else?”

“Nothing a _Reparo _won't fix.” Ollivander replies good-naturedly. 

“_Reeparo!” _Merlin says dramatically, mispronouncing the word, and the other window Arthur is leaning against blows out, spilling the youngster into the street again.

The adults all laugh, but Arthur glares at Merlin and mouths  _ I hate you _ at him. Merlin just shakes his head with a small smile, knowing his friend will sneak into his bed tonight when the adults are asleep for cuddles. They've been doing that since they could walk, and had yet to be caught. Tonight was Merlin's bed's turn. 

The trip home was uneventful, the only thing that happened was Arthur falling asleep in his soup at the Leaky Cauldron. 

Merlin curled up in his bed, after saying goodnight to his parents, and tried to calm his spinning mind, thinking of the First of September (only a month away) and how he'd miss his parents, like  _ really  _ miss them... all of a sudden the tears came and he started crying, full-body sobs. He'd never been apart from his parents, or Arthur's. He'd miss them so much! 

He didn't hear his bedroom door creak open over his sobs, or the quick footsteps of his friend. He was only aware of his presence when he slips under the covers, and spoons around Merlin's back, making soothing noises.

“Shhh, shhh, shhhh, Merls.” Arthur croons, placing a kiss on the back of his head.

“But... but... my parents!” Merlin wails, a fresh set of tears flowing down his cheeks.

“Will still be here at home, where you can send them a letter every day. You can even use Archimedes.” Arthur says sagely, offering his owl up to be used, just so his friend will calm down. He _hated _seeing Merlin crying.

“Re...really?” Merlin hiccoughs, turning watery blue eyes on his friend. 

“Absolutely.” Arthur replies. “Now will you calm down so we can sleep?” 

“Mmmhmm.” Merlin mumbles in reply, calming down as soon as Arthur put his arms around him. He fell asleep feeling safe and loved in the strong arms of his best friend. And Arthur... well, Arthur had already had his cry in his room, and had actually come to Merlin for some comfort. It all worked out well in the end though, didn't it?


	2. All About Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin wakes up in his own bed (he did fall asleep cuddling Arthur last night) to a small dragon sleeping on his chest. It's curled up like a cat, small puffs of smoke coming out of its nostrils. He runs a finger down her spine (he somehow just knows she's a she as soon as he touches her) and she stretches, yawning widely and showing off pearly white baby teeth. Her scales are iridescent, the gold his eyes become when he's casting a spell, multicoloured, colours shifting in the light with every breath she takes, glittering like a treasure trove.
> 
> Merlin gets a dragon, and I get carried away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Astór pronunciation: "uh stohr" literally means "my treasure" in Irish.

_Two weeks before September 1st_

Merlin walked into the kitchen to find his Mum reading a letter and stroking a large owl distractedly. He could see the letter came from his father, not because he could see the front of it, but because his Mum looked ten years younger when anything involving his father ever happened. Their love was strong and could last the ages, unlike Uther and Ygraine who seemed to be having troubles.

“What does Dad say, Mum?” Merlin asked curiously, and she looked up from the letter almost as if she was in a trance.

“Hmm?”

“Dad? What does he say?”

“Oh. That he'll be home in a week and eight days.” A blinding smile crossed her face, and she looked as excited as a child on Christmas Day.

“But that's two days before I leave for Hogwarts! Two days!” Merlin exclaims.

“Merlin!” his mother scolds him, “he's on this quest for you! He's bringing back your pet, who is apparently being a little hard to catch.”

“Sorry, Mum.” Merlin mumbles, the tips of his ears going pink, just as Arthur swaggers in the door and snatches an apple out the bowl on the kitchen table.

“Morning, Mrs Emrys.” he says politely, before crunching loudly into the piece of fruit.

“Arthur.” Hunith replies dreamily, already rereading her husband's words so intently that that alone would be enough to teleport him right to her side.

“'Erlin. Wanna be beaten in a 'room 'ace wi' me?” Arthur asks, mouth full and apple juice running down his chin, knowing if Hunith was less distracted she'd whack him with a rolling pin for his manners and then report him to his own mother.

“Not particularly, you disgusting prat.” Merlin snaps back.

“Whoa.” Arthur says, putting his hands up on either side of his head. “Did a Hippogriff pee in your cornflakes this morning?”

Merlin tilts his head to the side, frowning slightly, disconcerted by the very wizard half of the sentence (Hippogriff) matched with the very muggle side of the sentence (cornflakes).

“No..?” the dark haired wizard replies, more asking a question than answering it.

“Good. Catch.” Arthur lobs the apple core at his friend's head and runs out the door. “Dare you to a Quidditch match!”

Merlin sighs, stops the apple coming at him with a flash of golden in his eyes and follows his friend out the door.

_Two days before September 1st_

Merlin wakes up in his own bed (he did fall asleep cuddling Arthur last night) to a small dragon sleeping on his chest. It's curled up like a cat, small puffs of smoke coming out of its nostrils. He runs a finger down her spine (he somehow just _knows_ she's a she as soon as he touches her) and she stretches, yawning widely and showing off pearly white baby teeth. Her scales are iridescent, the gold his eyes become when he's casting a spell, multicoloured, colours shifting in the light with every breath she takes, glittering like a treasure trove.

“Hello, there, little one.” He murmurs to her, and she rubs her head on his palm. “What should I call you? You shine like treasure. Treasure. Hmm. I wonder if Astór can work? My treasure.”

She seems quite content with that idea, and hiccoughs in approval, some sparks coming out of her snout. He sits up, and she curls up in his lap, quite obviously not wanting him to move.

“You have to move, Stórie.” he whispers to her, already completely enamoured and giving her a nickname. She lets off a sort of grumbly huff and finally opens her eyes. A deeply intelligent purple gaze meets his, and he _feels _something brushing his conciousness.

_Hello, Merlin_ . He hears in his mind, _I'm hungry._

“Hi Hungry, I'm Merlin.” he says with a giggle, and she huffs and whacks him in the stomach with her tail.

_Stupid joke._ She murmurs in his mind, _very stupid joke._

“Agreed. Now, little one, you need to move so I can get up and get us some food.” Merlin says gently.

_But I's waaaaarm. _ She whines in reply, her English showing her age (ergo, _very young_).

Merlin slowly wriggles out from under her and she immediately curls up in the warm spot where he was sitting moments earlier. Tutting at her fondly, he gets dressed, red shirt, blue scarf, and then tries to coax her onto his shoulder.

“Stórie.” he says gently, “come with me and you'll get some fooooood.”

She opens one purple eye, then narrows it, almost seeming to size up if he's telling the truth or not.

_Fiiiiiiiine_ , she huffs, and stretches again, this time shaking out her wings as well. She stands and hops up a little, flapping her wings, but only makes it a few centimetres off the bed before flopping back down on it. _Stupid wings_ , she admonishes herself, but Merlin just shakes his head, a fond smile on his face, and picks her up, cradling her like a baby in his arms. She literally _purrs _ and relaxes against him. _ Glad I found my hooman _ she murmurs in his mind, eyes slipping shut again.

Merlin's parents both look up in unison as their son slams into the kitchen, excitement literally _radiating _off him, a small golden dragon in his arms.

“Morning, son.” Balinor says mildly, and takes careful note of how the dragon already trusts Merlin implicitly.

“Dad! I've named her! Astór!” Merlin exclaims.

“How fitting.” Balinor says, “just always remember to treat her like her name implies.”

Merlin nods seriously, stroking Stórie's forehead, and in that exact moment Arthur bursts into the kitchen as well. Stórie shrieks and takes off from Merlin's arms, flapping around wildly, as high up as she can before she plummets through the air and lands... on Merlin's head. _AAAHHHHHH _is all he can hear in his mind, and “Arthur! Didn't your mother teach you not to go slamming into rooms like that??” is all he can hear with his ears.

It eventually takes Balinor's Dragonlord rumble to calm Astór into silence. “Come now, Hunith.” her husband says, “we were all young and energetic at one point in our lives.”

Arthur, however, after looking sufficiently chastened looks over at his best friend and finds two gazes glaring at him. He gasps. “You have a _dragon_?” he exclaims. “Where do I exchange Archimedes for mine??”

Balinor laughs, and it sounds like his Dragonlord voice, just a little less serious. “No son of a Dragonlord is going to Hogwarts with an owl, a cat, or a toad. It's tradition that Emrys' go with dragons, besides, he needed to start his training as soon as he turned eleven.”

“I... did?” Merlin asks, coaxing Stórie off his head and onto his shoulder with tickles and strokes.

“Yes. Now, I'm sure you're both hungry...” Balinor trails off at the odd sight of his son, his son's dragon, and his son's best friend all nodding in unison. “...your Mum has made some human breakfast, and here, Astór, is _your _breakfast.”

She bounces excitedly on Merlin's shoulder and snaps the square of chocolate Balinor tosses her right out of the air.

“Chocolate? You eat chocolate?” Merlin asks incredulously.

“Of course. All baby dragons eat chocolate.” Balinor says, as if it's common knowledge. “Here, I think you need to read this.” He pulls a handbook from thin air and hands it to his son.

“_How To Raise A Dragon For Dummies_”? Merlin asks, the incredulous tone not leaving his voice, actually making it higher-pitched

“Yes. The Dummies books were written by muggles, but certain wizards decided to copy the format.” Balinor replied good-naturedly.

“Ooookay.” Merlin mumbles, flopping down into a chair, already looking exhausted even though the day had just begun.

Arthur also flops into a chair, but for an entirely different reason. He's in a _massive _ sulk over how _Merlin _ of all people, gets a _dragon _ for goodness sakes and all he gets is an _owl_.

Why was he friends with the clotpole again...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really meant for this chapter to deal with the Train Ride and The Sorting, but I got carried away writing about the dragon. I LOVE dragons. I hope you can tell, and I did them justice. Think of Astór as about the size of a kitten (she's going to have cat-like qualities, I won't be able to help it.) 
> 
> See you in the next chapter, which I promise will involve The Hogwarts Express and the Sorting.


	3. At The Train Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can't sleep.” Merlin grumbles, watching Astór's scales move as she breathes, curled around the pole of the lamp on his bedside table, bathed in the moonlight coming through a crack in the curtains. 
> 
> There's movement beside him and then a barely audible “neither can I.”
> 
> “I guess it's the excitement.” Merlin assures them.
> 
> “Oh, yeah, must be.” Arthur agrees, and they both move so they're both on their backs, staring at the ceiling. 
> 
> Merlin's not sure who moves first, but suddenly their hands meet in between their bodies (not that there was much space, what with them being shoulder to shoulder) and Arthur is squeezing his hand so tight his fingers are going numb. Merlin doesn't mind, he's squeezing back just as hard. 
> 
> “I'm going to miss you.” it's a barely-there whisper into the moonlight, and Merlin's surprised it's come from I-don't-do-feelings Arthur. It appears his friend is more astute than he gives him credit for, because Merlin can feel he hasn't got the same personality traits as the blonde.
> 
> “I'm going to miss you too.” he replies, and then pretends he doesn't hear the sniffle come from the other side of the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided I'm going to stop promising stuff for chapters, because this thing is writing itself. 
> 
> Please enjoy, and let me know if anything seems weird or OOC. Love you all!
> 
> Also, thanks to Jayfire for giving me another lovely pet name for Astór - Stóirín = stohr-een, which means "little treasure", as well as HicSuntDracones - love ya, babe!

_One day before September 1st_

_9 AM_

“What's going to happen if we get sorted into different Houses?” Arthur suddenly asks, shoving his Hogwarts uniform in a crumpled ball into his trunk.

Merlin tuts and sighs, his eyes glow, and the uniform gets neatly smoothed out and folded into a pile. “Think you can fit that in better?” the dark haired wizard asks sarcastically.

“Whoa!” Arthur exclaims, “now there's more space for all my Quidditch merch!”

Merlin just shakes his head and facepalms.

_12 PM_

“No, bu' seriously.” Arthur says around a mouthful of mashed potato, “wha' if we _are_ Sorted into different Houses?” he swallows thickly, “what will happen with the... y'know..?”

Merlin fixes his blue eyed gaze on his best friend. “The what, Arthur?” he asks, poking at his sausages, way too nervously excited to eat much.

“The...” he looks around the kitchen, where Ygraine and Hunith are leaning against a counter, chatting and sipping out of cups of tea.

Merlin knows _exactly _what Arthur is talking about, but doesn't really want to think about it. Seeing Arthur all flustered and frustrated is a huge plus too.

“You _know _what I'm talking about, _Mer_lin!” Arthur says in a hushed voice through gritted teeth.

“Arthur!” Ygraine reprimands, “you know it's rude to whisper. Now eat up, you still need to clean your room and pack some more before tomorrow.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and shoves an entire sausage in his mouth just to spite his mother.

And then ends up choking.

That puts an end to that conversation.

_5PM_

It's nearly dinner time, and the two boys are sitting quietly on Merlin's bed, hands almost touching, but not quite.

“I think you've realised I've been avoiding your question all day.” Merlin murmurs, catching Arthur's gaze and holding it intently.

“I was hoping you weren't and that big those ears of yours had temporarily stopped working.” Arthur replies, matching Merlin's stare with one of his own.

“No, sorry to disappoint you.” Merlin sighs and bites his lip. “Look, if we _are _Sorted into different Houses, what's the worse that could happen?”

“I've somehow gotten used to your company to fall asleep. How am I going to function without my eight hours?”

Merlin snorts. “More like ten.”

“Oi! I do not sleep in!”

“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight.” his friend replied, sounding _totally _convinced.

Arthur just grabs one of the pillows off Merlin's bed and smacks him in the head with it. Merlin grabs one of his own, not to be outdone, and a full blown pillow fight war starts, until they hear Hunith yelling that supper was ready.

_12 PM_

“I can't sleep.” Merlin grumbles, watching Astór's scales move as she breathes, curled around the pole of the lamp on his bedside table, bathed in the moonlight coming through a crack in the curtains. 

There's movement beside him and then a barely audible “neither can I.”

“I guess it's the excitement.” Merlin assures them.

“Oh, yeah, must be.” Arthur agrees, and they both move so they're both on their backs, staring at the ceiling. 

Merlin's not sure who moves first, but suddenly their hands meet in between their bodies (not that there was much space, what with them being shoulder to shoulder) and Arthur is squeezing his hand so tight his fingers are going numb. Merlin doesn't mind, he's squeezing back just as hard. 

“I'm going to miss you.” it's a barely-there whisper into the moonlight, and Merlin's surprised it's come from I-don't-do-feelings Arthur. It appears his friend is more astute than he gives him credit for, because Merlin can _feel _he hasn't got the same personality traits as the blonde.

“I'm going to miss you too.” he replies, and then pretends he doesn't hear the sniffle come from the other side of the bed.

_SEPTEMBER 1ST!! Camelot Castle, Kitchen_

Merlin cannot eat a bite of breakfast, much to the worry of his mother. Arthur, however, has no problem and eats both his  _and _ Merlin's. Stórie is worriedly sitting on her master's shoulder, feeling his anxiety through their mental bond. She's barely eaten a corner off her chocolate square.

Balinor wanders into the kitchen for a cup of tea, and jovially says “big day, isn't it?”

Merlin swallows convulsively and goes a little green around the gills.

“Balinor!” Hunith scolds, “he hasn't even had a whole piece of toast, I don't need it coming up!”

“I'm fine, Mum.” Merlin says weakly, while Arthur scrapes the plates clean.

“See, the boy's fine!” his father booms, but then gets serious. “Remember, son. No matter what happens, or what House you get Sorted into, your mother and I...” he puts an arm around Hunith who nods tearfully, “...are proud of you. Though my money's on Gryffindor.” he winks at Merlin over the top of his mug and takes a big gulp from it. 

Hunith pushes away from her husband and demands  _“how much of your money??”_

“Only... a couple... galleo-- knuts! Only a few knuts!” her husband replies, and Hunith visibly holds herself back from exploding. Standing on her tiptoes to get right in his face she growls, “this isn't over,” and then turns back to the boys with a bright smile on her face. They both visibly gulp.

“Arthur, dear, why don't you say goodbye to your parents, you'll be coming with us since they both have to go to a conference.” Hunith mildly requests and Arthur stands up so hastily to comply he knocks over the chair he was sitting on. “And Merlin... do try and eat more while we wait.”

_Astór_ Merlin hears his father's voice in his head, and his dragon lightly jumps off of his shoulder and wobbles weakly, her wings flapping as hard as they can over to where Balinor is holding his forearm out to her.

_Yes, Big Master?_ She questions, big purple eyes turned up to his own.

Balinor strokes her from the tip of her snout to the tip of her tail and says  _take care of him Stóirín, as I know he shall take care of you._

_Yes, Big Master_ she replies obediently and Balinor walks over to where she can hop comfortably back onto Merlin's shoulder. As soon as she settles herself, she rubs her snout against his ear, making a soft, soothing, humming sound which seems to calm Merlin a fraction, as his shoulders relax a tiny bit.

“Sorry about the delay...” Arthur says, cautiously coming into the kitchen, not wanting to upset any dragons, “...but Mum... well...” he moves to the side, and Ygraine comes sweeping into the doorway, dressed in her finery, diamonds dripping from her earlobes and wrists as well as glittering in the hollow of her throat.

“Ygraine!” Hunith says in shock, “what are you doing here?”

“I told Uther he can go shove a broomstick up his ars--” she stops her sentence at the harsh look from Hunith and rephrases it to “I told Uther I'm not missing my only son's first trip to Hogwarts.”

Arthur looks at the floor, embarrassed. 

“Well!” Hunith says, putting her tea mug in the sink where a sponge immediately gets to work, “shall we be off?”

_SEPTEMBER 1ST!! King's Cross Station, Platform 9 ¾, 10:50 AM_

Hunith is in tears again, and Balinor's own eyes are looking a little red. Ygraine hasn't let go of Arthur since they all popped through the wall.

“Muuuuuuum,” he's whining and trying to wriggle out of her grasp while Merlin happily stands in the huddle his parents have made, Stórie perched on his head.

“You've got everything you need?” Ygraine asks, sounding a lot like she was getting a cold.

“Yes, Merlin made a list and checked it two-hundred times.” the youngster replies, sounding frustrated at his friend's antics.

“Well then.” Ygraine clears her throat and gives her only son the last hug she'd get from him for a whole school term. She buries her face in his hair and breathes in deeply, trying to commit everything about him to memory. Arthur stands patiently for all of ten seconds before he starts patting her awkwardly on the back, trying to indicate he's had enough. It's only after the train whistle blows that either of the mothers let go of their children. Once they do, the boys race up the train steps and stand in the doorway, waving at their parents. Ygraine moves over to Hunith and they both stand and wave together as the train slowly starts moving out of the station, and onto the biggest adventure of the boys' lives.

“I wonder how they're going to keep cuddling.” Hunith says mildly once her tears have lessened a little and the train has long since left.

“Knowing our boys...” Ygraine replies, “....they'll find a way.”

And Balinor can't help but nod in agreement.


	4. On The Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You're cute.” Arthur replies, in that innocent way friends do when they're young and don't know fully what the word implies.
> 
> “No I'm not, I am fierce and can command dragons! See, look.” he tries to copy the deep dragon-voice his father does, but his voice ends up cracking. Nevertheless he soldiers on, and says “Stórie! Catch!” and tosses a balled up sweet wrapper at the dragon, who was sitting on the luggage bars just above the boys' heads. She literally just watches it sail past her nose, flicks her tail and grumbles not a pet in Merlin's head.
> 
> “Oh, yeah, very powerful Dragonlord you are!” Arthur crows, and grabs Merlin in a chokehold, rubbing his knuckles over the other boy's hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is here! I am on FIYAAAAH.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and comments and even those ghost readers who are leaving hits, (I don't mind, I do it myself sometimes) I wish I could give you all a Stórie to show my appreciation. 
> 
> Please do enjoy, and I shall see you in the next chapter, my loves! :D

_SEPTEMBER 1ST!! Hogwarts Express, 11:05 AM_

Finding a compartment on the Hogwarts Express was fairly tricky, what with two people per carriage in some cases, and reluctance to share. However, the boys eventually find one (Merlin was worried they'd have to sit in the corridor the whole trip, to which Arthur fiercely vowed he'd knock some heads together to get a proper seat) and collapse in unison onto the squishy bench.

Arthur groans and mutters “I'd better go find our luggage” to which Merlin just waves a tired arm in reply, not even bothering to say anything. “Thanks for the comment.” the blonde mutters sarcastically as he drags himself off the seat and opens the sliding door, heading into the corridor. He passes compartments that are packed with rowdy seventh years, all having what looks to be a party together, different House uniforms creating a rainbow of colour, he passes bored looking third years, who just want to be at Hogwarts already, and he passes a compartment with two boys in it, one dark haired and the other ginger, stuffing themselves on Wizarding sweets. After what feels like hours, Arthur reaches the luggage compartment and grabs Archimedes in his cage, tucking it under his arm and disturbing the poor owl who was sleeping. He then locates the cases with “AP” and “ME” on them, stacks them on top of each other, and starts dragging them by the handles until whispering nearby makes him stop and strain his ears.

“_Do you know who's on the train?” _he hears a girl ask fiercely.

“_Not my toad.”_ he hears a glum male reply, _“Trevor seems to have disappeared. My grandmother is going to kill me.”_

“_Yes, fine, I'll help you find your toad.” _the girl whispers back dismissively, _“But listen, do you want to know who's on the train?” _

“_I have a feeling you're going to tell me.”_

“_Harry Potter!” _the girl crows, and something falls down in her excitement. _“Oops.” _she mutters, and for a few seconds there's shuffling noises as they reposition whatever fell down.

“_That's great.” _the boy eventually replies, still sounding as if he'd witnessed his toad being run over by the train, rather than him just being misplaced on it.

“_That's it!” _the girl bursts out again, _“I'll go ask people in each compartment about your toad, until I find the one Harry Potter is on!”_

“_Isn't that going to... never mind.” _the other voice replies, but trails off at the sound of quick footsteps retreating away from the spot they where whispering in.

Arthur shrugs, not thinking anything more of it, and starts dragging the luggage towards their compartment, Archimedes voicing his disapproval with every step.

When the blonde _finally _ gets back to their compartment, he finds Merlin sitting and reading _How To Raise A Dragon For Dummies, _stretched out across the bench on the left side of the little room, leaning against the window with Stórie reading over his shoulder, nodding every so often as if she could understand what was actually being written. The dark haired boy looks up at the sound of a huffing and puffing, red-faced Arthur Pendragon slamming into the space, looking murderous.

“Thanks for the help, _Merlin_.” the blonde sounds like he's spitting acid at his best friend who looks at him, unintimidated and says “I'll do it next year?” Arthur huffs, rolls his eyes and sags, putting Archimedes down on the bench on the right, who still hasn't _shut up_, and decides he has no energy to fight about something so petty. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Honestly Arthur, why didn't you just magic them so they floated in front of you? Its an easy spell, I can do it with my eyes closed.”

Arthur just growls, and Merlin puts his hands up in surrender.

_SEPTEMBER 1ST!! Hogwarts Express, 1 PM_

It's a little while and lots of Pumpkin Pasties later, (the Trolley Witch came by their compartment five minutes after Arthur's growling and all anger at Merlin was gone at the prospect of _food_) after they've watched Astór chase her third Chocolate Frog around the compartment that Arthur felt strong enough to put his luggage away (Magic knows, he wasn't putting Merlin's away for him, the dark haired boy just left it dumped at his feet).

"They say Harry Potter is on the train." Arthur says nonchalantly, stuffing his trunk in the overhead compartment, trying to ignore the indignant hoots of Archimedes, who still hasn't forgiven him for waking him up.

"So?" Merlin asks, looking up from the book he was reading (_Dragon Raising for Dummies, _again) and tickling Astór under the chin, making her spit little sparks.

"Isn't he, like, the most powerful..."

"Let me stop you right there," Merlin interjects, "and swear to me that you'll avoid that troublemaker as much as possible."

"Um..." Arthur eloquently replies.

"Because for a minute there, you actually sounded like you were in awe."

Arthur scoffs and rolls his eyes, but secretly he _was _a little in awe at the prospect of sharing a year with one of the most legendary wizards of all time.

Merlin seems to be reading his thoughts and narrows his eyes. “I can do wandless magic!” he says indignantly. “This is a bespectacled kid with dead parents and a scar who happened to be in the same room when Moldyvort's wand backfired. Why do I even bother?” he rants, throwing his arms up in frustration, while Astór nuzzles into his neck, trying to calm him down.

Arthur can't help but snigger at his friend's frustration, and Merlin grumbles “it's not funny.”

“You're cute.” Arthur replies, in that innocent way friends do when they're young and don't know fully what the word implies.

“No I'm not, I am fierce and can command dragons! See, look.” he tries to copy the deep dragon-voice his father does, but his voice ends up cracking. Nevertheless he soldiers on, and says “Stórie! Catch!” and tosses a balled up sweet wrapper at the dragon, who was sitting on the luggage bars just above the boys' heads. She literally just watches it sail past her nose, flicks her tail and grumbles _not a pet _in Merlin's head.

“Oh, _yeah_, very powerful Dragonlord you are!” Arthur crows, and grabs Merlin in a chokehold, rubbing his knuckles over the other boy's hair.

“Ow, Arthur, stop it!” Merlin complains, trying to squirm out of his (much stronger) friend's grip.

“Nope!” the other boy replies cheerfully, and carries on until Merlin feels as if he's almost bald. He's about to yell at Arthur when the lights in the compartment flicker on, and they see it's getting dark.

A hushed silence falls over the space they're in... that is until Astór sneezes and both boys jump a foot in the air.

“I guess we're almost there.” Arthur murmurs, still wanting to keep the previous hushed silence intact.

“Should probably get our uniforms on...” Merlin says, looking as green again as he did this morning.

“...yup.” And if Arthur sounded just a little like a soprano on that last word, neither of them said anything about it, just focused on getting changed.

Hogwarts was approaching. _Fast._


	5. Hogwarts Approaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out the train wasn't as empty as they thought and they had to stand in a bit of a queue to get out of their carriage, whispers of “Harry Potter” surrounding them. Merlin is getting more and more miffed with every mention of the “Boy Who Lived”'s name, Arthur can feel him tensing up with every syllable he hears. 
> 
> “Hey, hey, hey, calm down Merls.” Arthur leans over to whisper in the darker haired boy's big ear, and Merlin just sighs and shrugs. 
> 
> “This is really going to annoy me, isn't it?” he asks Arthur rhetorically, and Arthur shrugs and then nods. 
> 
> “Yeah, probably.” he agrees as they finally get off the train and into the night air with a bit of a chilly nip in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this story isn't wanting to write the Sorting Hat scene yet. xD But I do think that that's going to be the next chapter. *crosses fingers*
> 
> It's an absolute pleasure to all who have thanked me for writing this in the comments, I'm having loads more fun than I thought I would, to be honest. 
> 
> Oh, and it only says "Hogwarts Express, after dark" because I have no idea what time the 'Express arrives. I also had no idea what season September 1st falls into because I don't live in England. xD September 1st for me is the first day of Spring. 
> 
> But yeah, on to the chapter, and thank you again for all the comments and kudos. Love you all!

_SEPTEMBER 1ST!! Hogwarts Express, after dark_

They had both just managed to lace up their shoes when the announcement came through saying they were five minutes from Hogwarts, and the train started to gradually slow down. Merlin and Arthur exchanged looks, Merlin greener than he had been the entire day, and Arthur feeling a bit queasy himself.

“All right there, Merls?” Arthur asks weakly, and Merlin can only manage a nod. “Good.” he flashes his friend a shaky smile as the train slowly comes to a stop at the station. “This is it....” the blonde says, trepidation lacing every word, and they make their way to the door of the compartment.

Stórie quickly flutters down from her luggage rack perch, making a huffing noise as she faceplants into the bench. _Forgettingmeforgettingmeforgettingme! _She cries in Merlin's mind, and the boy in question whirls around and goes over to the sad looking golden dragon sitting up and ruffling her scales on the bench.

“I could never forget you, Stórie.” he says, and strokes her head. She snuffles a little and hops onto his shoulder, but nips his earlobe mischievously. _That's for forgetting me. _She admonishes him, and Merlin exclaims _“ow!”_ in mock pain, before grabbing his dragon off his shoulder, cradling her in his arms and tickling her stomach while she makes little wheezing noises of laughter.

“When you're quite finished...” Arthur pipes up from the doorway, mock angry, but with a really fond look on his face, “...could we go now? Everyone has left already!” he dramatically throws his arm behind him at the empty passage.

“Okay, okay, drama queen.” Merlin mutters, and walks over to Arthur, Stórie still cradled in his arms. She turns her purple gaze onto Arthur, and sticks her little tongue out at him, as if to say _he's miiiiiiiine_. Arthur growls at her, and gives her a look as if to say _I don't think so... _They stare at each other, unblinkingly, and just like that, open war is declared, and the victor gets Merlin.

Merlin, oblivious as always, tilts his head in the direction of the open doorway and says “...shall we go?”

Arthur rips his eyes away from the dragon and nods once. “Absolutely.”

_SEPTEMBER 1ST!! half and hour later, outside the train_

Turns out the train wasn't as empty as they thought and they had to stand in a bit of a queue to get out of their carriage, whispers of “Harry Potter” surrounding them. Merlin is getting more and more miffed with every mention of the “Boy Who Lived”'s name, Arthur can feel him tensing up with every syllable he hears.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down Merls.” Arthur leans over to whisper in the darker haired boy's big ear, and Merlin just sighs and shrugs.

“This is really going to annoy me, isn't it?” he asks Arthur rhetorically, and Arthur shrugs and then nods.

“Yeah, probably.” he agrees as they finally get off the train and into the night air with a bit of a chilly nip in it.

Merlin wraps Stórie up in his cloak, when he feels her shiver. She's only a tiny body with no inner heat yet, after all.

An extremely large man from the perspective of an eleven year old is busy calling “Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!” and Merlin and Arthur head towards him. “Wha' you go' under tha' cloak, young man?” Hagrid asks Merlin, squinting his beady eyes down at the shivering lump in the boy's arms. Merlin twitches his cloak back a fraction, and Stórie pokes her snout out to sniff the breeze. Hagrid's face lights up in utter joy, and he says “a dragon! You mus' be an Emrys! I was hopin' to meet one of ya!”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Merlin says solemnly, his nerves making him a little formal, and Arthur nods in agreement, sticking his hand out for a shake.

Hagrid lets out a booming laugh, claps Arthur on the back so hard he nearly falls flat on his face, and says “Call me Hagrid, none o' this 'sir' nonsense. Now, follow me!”

The long line of First Years trail behind Hagrid in a crocodile line, as he leads him to the Lake, and the multitude of little boats on the shore. Hagrid says something about no more than four to a boat, and Merlin and Arthur step carefully into the closest one. Settling themselves down as comfortably as they can on a wooden boat seat, they watch as those around them settle themselves in too.

“Mind if we join?” a voice asks shyly, and both boys look over to two girls standing on the shore.

“No, no, not at all!” Arthur replies, ever the gentleman and starts standing up to help them, rocking the boat violently, and then thinks better of it, and sits back down again.

“Thanks. I'm Guinevere, but you can call me Gwen.” the girl introduces herself, warm brown eyes shining in the light of the little lamp that lit itself as soon as the boys boarded the boat. “And this is Morgana, my best friend.” she continues, as the other girl, jet black hair glowing in the light, gingerly places herself next to her friend, almost perching so that her uniform doesn't get messed up.

“Well,” Arthur clears his throat and points at himself, “I'm Arthur, and this is...-”

“Merlin.” Merlin interjects with a wide, goofy grin that Gwen can't help but reciprocate.

At that moment the boat starts moving with a little lurch, and they start to glide seamlessly over the water.

“Charmed.” its the first word Morgana has said in their presence, deeply Irish, and the smile she has on her face looks a little faked, but the boys just put it down to the same pre-Sorting jitters they're battling themselves.

They sail in silence for a couple of seconds before three gasps (and a dragon snort) of awe come from the little boat (and from all the boats around them) at the sight of Hogwarts in all its glory comes into view.

“Magnificent.” Gwen breathes, and the boys find themselves having to close their mouths before they can do anything else, like nod, or actually form articulate words. “Don't you think, Morgana?” Gwen continues, and drags her gaze from the castle to find her friend studying her nails. She scoffs. “Seen it a hundred times before.” the Irish girl says, and rolls her eyes. Gwen frowns and bites her lip, but doesn't press the issue, and Merlin and Arthur (in the oblivious way boys their age are) don't even notice the little exchange.

It's only another five minutes before the little boats bump up against the shore on the other side of the Lake, Hogwarts towering above them, and Hagrid is the first to drag himself out his little boat, and he impatiently encourages them all to quickly get out their boats.

Which they do, (by some miracle nobody tipped their boats and got dunked in freezing water) and start wending their way up to the door of Hogwarts, which Hagrid knocks on three tines.

Merlin swallows thickly, shifts Stórie so he's only carrying her with his left arm, and blindly reaches out for Arthur's hand, which is already meeting his halfway. They cling to each other like they're each other's lifeline, and await the Wisdom of the Sorting Hat.


	6. THE SORTING. FINALLY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Follow me, please.” she requests the group, and utter silence descends once more. They all nervously follow in the Headmistress' footsteps, but look around in utter wonder once they enter the Hall. Candles float from the enchanted ceiling, and their every move is being watched by the entire school. Merlin once again reaches blindly for Arthur's hand, and shrinks a little into his side. Stórie isn't happy about having to move to her hooman's other shoulder. Arthur smirks. Arthur 1, Dragon 0, he thinks smugly to himself before they all stop in front of the Head Table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA, I DID IT. I think. I hope. 
> 
> Thank you so much to Jayfire for everything, like, your constructive criticism is the best thing ever. Can you be another one of my best friends? xD (HicSuntDracones is my other bestie)
> 
> Do please enjoy, I hope I lived up to everyone's expectations.
> 
> Love you all, see you in the next chapter! (Which won't be updated tomorrow, I'm sorry, but I'm helping pick up relatives from the airport...)

_Waiting Area just outside the Great Hall, night_

Its an extremely nervous group of First Years standing outside awaiting the return of Professor McGonagall. They were _very_ quiet for a bunch of eleven year olds, that is until the poncey voice of some ice-blonde jerk drifted down to the middle of the group where Arthur and Merlin were standing. They were too far away to hear exactly what was said, but it broke the silence over the group.

Stórie was sitting on her young master's shoulder again, the flickering candlelight reflecting off her burnished scales. She was sitting on the shoulder closest to Arthur, effectively putting herself between Merlin and the blonde, and kept blowing air into Arthur's ear.

“Stop it!” he hisses at her, rubbing his ear on his shoulder.

“Stop what?” Merlin asks distractedly.

“Oh, nothing.” Arthur replies nonchalantly, and when Merlin looks at his dragon and his best friend, he only sees innocent looks gazing back at him. He narrows his eyes, frowns and tilts his head a little, but doesn't press the issue. Once the dark haired wizard turns back to watch the Great Hall doors, Arthur glares at Stórie with a look that screams _this isn't over yet_. She smugly looks back at him, he swears she's smirking, and her look says _oh, I know_. Just before Arthur lunges forward to throttle the insufferable little dragon, McGonagall turns up again, clearing her throat and tapping the blonde prat on the shoulder with a scroll of paper to move him from where he's hassling two wizards – one with ginger hair, the other with black.

_Great Hall, night_

“Follow me, please.” she requests the group, and utter silence descends once more. They all nervously follow in the Headmistress' footsteps, but look around in utter wonder once they enter the Hall. Candles float from the enchanted ceiling, and their every move is being watched by the entire school. Merlin once again reaches blindly for Arthur's hand, and shrinks a little into his side. Stórie isn't happy about having to move to her hooman's other shoulder. Arthur smirks. _Arthur 1, Dragon 0_, he thinks smugly to himself before they all stop in front of the Head Table. They can't see exactly what's going on until the first person is called up, and they watch her sit on a little stool, and McGonagall place an _extremely _battered hat on the student's head.

“I thought it'd look a little less... well used.” He muses into Merlin's ear. Merlin just shakes his head in awe at his friend's almost royal upbringing, but doesn't take his eyes off the proceedings.

“Hi again!” they hear someone eagerly whisper, and when Arthur turns around he sees Gwen and Morgana right behind them. “Where do you think you'll end up?” the friendly girl asks, and Arthur shrugs, tugging slightly on Merlin's hand, the action causing the young boy to turn and see the pair of girls behind them. His face lights up in a friendly smile at Gwen, who smiles shyly back. Morgana just scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Well,” Arthur starts quietly, “I'm hoping we'll both end up in Gryffindor...” he squeezes the hand in his own, “...because I need someone to pick up my socks from the floor just like he did at home.”

Merlin makes an exasperated scoffing noise, but ultimately looks fond of his dumb friend. He whispers conspiratorially to Gwen “I guess I shouldn't tell you about the dragon soft toy we had to magically find space for in his trunk, then.”

She giggles behind her hand, and Arthur flicks Merlin's ear in annoyance. Morgana has yet to stop rolling her eyes, or even _say _anything to them.

“I'm thinking I'll probably be a Hufflepuff.” Gwen says as she reaches up to scratch Stórie gently on the snout, who stiffens for a millisecond and then rubs her face in the girl's palm. “Your dragon is _gorgeous _by the way.”

_I like her, Merly. She smells of flowers. _Merlin hears in his head, and he mentally files away “Merly” to talk to her about later. “She says she likes you.” the dark haired wizard says softly to Gwen, who's face lights up just like Hagrid's did.

“I like you too, baby.” Gwen croons to Stórie, who makes a sort of soft chirping noise in reply. Suddenly Morgana elbows Gwen in the side and hisses “she just called your name.” Gwen visibly swallows, squares her shoulders, and makes her way to the front of the group.

“How many people got Sorted while we were distracted, d'you think?” Arthur asks, looking longingly at the empty plates of the people sitting closest to him. Those Pumpkin Pasties were _long _gone.

“Shhhh!” boy and dragon shush him, and Arthur sulkily crosses his arms and watches as the Hat Sorts Gwen into.... Hufflepuff! The boys clap and cheer the loudest for their new, gentle friend, and she notices, doing a tiny curtsey to them before she sits at her House Table. Everyone there seems to want to hug her.

“Hermionie Granger?” McGonagall asks the crowd and a girl with extremely bushy hair sits on the stool. After a couple of seconds of deliberation, he chooses Gryffindor for her, which is obviously what she wants judging by the look of relief on her face. “Bloody hell, everyone wants to be a Gryffindor.” Arthur grumbles, to which he swears he hears a “I don't” in an Irish accent behind him. What _was _this Morgana girl's problem?

“Ronald Weasley!” McGonagall calls out, and the ginger-haired boy that Arthur's been noticing hesitantly steps up to the stool.

“A Weasley, eh?” they hear the Hat muse, now they're actually paying attention to it, “I know just what to do with you... GRYFFINDOR!” the Hat shouts, and Ron's shoulders actually _slump _in relief.

“Merlin Emrys!” Merlin turns as pale as chalk at the mention of his name and turns to Arthur. Arthur squeezes his hand in encouragement and gestures for him to step up. Merlin starts walking forwards, holding onto Arthur's hand for as long as he can before it's just a brush of their fingers, and he's on his own. He hears a snort in his ear. Well, technically not _alone, _alone. The walk up to before he's standing in front of the Hat is the longest of his entire life, he seems to be trudging through syrup before he can get there. When he _finally _reaches the front, McGonagall smiles reassuringly at him and holds her forearm out to Stórie who nips his ear in affection and good luck before she hops on. He sits down on the stool, and in almost slow motion, watches as the Headmistress plops the Hat on his head.

_Hmm. _ He hears a cool voice in his head. _Now you're interesting. _

_Yes, isn't he? _He hears Stórie ask proudly, and the Hat stops short of his dialogue.

_Who are you? _He asks the dragon coolly, and she replies with _I's_ _Astór, dragon to that hooman_, and Merlin watches as she literally _waves a wing _at the Hat, who huffs in annoyance, but continues his speech.

_I see loyalty, bravery, strength, ambition, cunning, power, so much power, and mischief. Where on Earth do I put you? _

_Bally says Gryffindor. _Stórie chips in helpfully. If the Hat had eyes, he'd be rolling them.

_Hmmm. On the one hand, you'd probably do well in Gryffindor, but on the other, well, you'd just do great things in Slytherin..._

“My Dad has placed a bet on Gryffindor?” Merlin mumbles weakly, and the Hat nearly falls off his head laughing.

_That is not how the decision is made, young wizard._ _Now, I think I'll put you in... SLYTHERIN!_

Merlin can't help feel a small twinge of sadness as he turns around from taking Stórie back from his Headmistress and catches Arthur's eye. The boy looks sad and lost at the prospect of not having his best friend constantly at his side any more. Merlin nods once at the blonde, and makes his way over to the Slytherin table, where literally everyone seems to instantly be sizing him up.

There's a few other people Sorted, including Harry Potter (who went to Gryffindor, surprise, surprise) before it's Arthur's turn.

Arthur didn't think he'd experience heartbreak at such a young age, but as soon as the Hat decreed “Slytherin!” on his best friend, he got this funny ache in his heart and he no longer felt hungry any more.

“Awww, is blondie going to miss his boyfriend?” Morgana taunts from behind him, a smirk on her lips (that seems to be the only expression the witch knows how to do).

“He's not my boyfriend.” Arthur mumbles, and faces front, tears burning his eyes. He tries his best to ignore the whispered poison coming from behind him in a sultry Irish accent, and focuses on the Sorting. After Merlin, a boy called Gwaine got sorted into Gryffindor, the ice-blonde ponce got Sorted into Slytherin (the Hat barely even touched his head), a boy called Leon was a bit of a Hatstall between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, but he eventually got Sorted into the latter, where Gwen actually _stood _and hugged him, they obviously knew each other from before.

“Morgana LeFay.” McGonagall announces, and the girl behind him swishes past, smacking him in the face with her jet-black curls. Arthur catches Merlin's eye, and is relieved to see his friend had witnessed the whole event. He was frowning slightly, and biting his lip. Arthur raised his eyebrow as if to say _did you see that?? what is her **problem**?? _to which Merlin nods and shrugs in unison. It was a weird thing to witness, and it looked like the dark-haired wizard was having a fit or something.

Morgana gets Sorted into Slytherin, and she smirks again at the news before floating over to the Slytherin table and perching herself down next to Merlin, who scootches as far away from her as he can and looks extremely uncomfortable. If it was any other circumstance, Arthur would be laughing his butt off at the discomfort of his friend. As it was....

“Arthur Pendragon!”

He catches Merlin's eye again before he makes his way to the front like a man going to the gallows, and his friend flashes him a thumbs up and a smile. Stórie has her tail up straight like a certain rude muggle gesture, and is waving it slightly, and Arthur wonders where she learnt_ that_. “Innocent little dragon baby” his foot! He'd show Merlin! He'd show Merlin that psycho dragon of his was a...

_Psycho?_ A cool voice interrupts his tirade, sounding somewhat amused.

“Sorry.” Arthur mumbles, not realising he'd made it to the front, sat down on the stool _and _McGonagall had placed the Hat on his head until he'd been interrupted.

_It's fine, it's fine, I've got the rest of the year to Sort the rest of the First Years, I'm sure they won't mind waiting until you're ready_. The Hat replies, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Arthur wisely decides to keep his mouth shut and his mind blank.

_Thank you. Now. Courage, strength, a strong sense of right and wrong... oh yes, I know what you are... GRYFFINDOR!_

Arthur feels an overwhelming feeling of relief, and hops off the stool, a wide smile on his face, and starts making his way to the Gryffindor table. He scans the faces of his new House, everyone smiling back at him. Once person in particular catches his gaze, a black haired wizard next to the ginger Weasley who had round glasses on, and his hair was parted so a lightning shaped scar was prominently on display. Arthur stops dead and narrows his eyes at the kid, who looks somewhat surprised at the antagonism being thrown his way.

_Potter._


	7. Their First (K)Nights Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “....my father shall hear about this. My fork has got a spot of dirt on it. I can't eat with it! Goyle. Give me yours.” Merlin's big ears prick up at the sound of a voice even more prat-like than Arthur's and he leans forward. There, just a bit further down the table, on Gilli's side, is a boy with light blonde hair and ice-blue eyes. At the moment Merlin sets eyes on him, he's wrestling a fork out of the hand of a big beefy boy who's sitting on his left. 
> 
> Merlin smirks, his eyes flash as golden as his dragon's scales, and the fork (and all the forks in the boy's vicinity) disappear with an audible “pop” and shouts of surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOOOOOO. Next chapter, y'all! Sorry if it seems a bit off, yesterday was exhausting, but I feel I should stay in the swing of things and try to update daily.
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments and kudos and hits, I love you all! 
> 
> See you in the next chapter, lovies. Mwah.

_Great Hall, night_

_ARTHUR_

Arthur was not hungry. Which was weird because he distinctly remembers being ravenous before the Sorting started. He looks miserably up and down the House Table at the feast before him. It seems like every item of savoury food ever created was in front of him, or to his left or right. He sighs.   
  


“All right there, princess?” an Irish voice asks, and Arthur looks up to see a guy with long hair brushing his collar and a crooked smile on his face. He bites into his chicken drumstick like a man possessed, and waits for Arthur's reply.

“Yeah. Not hungry.” Arthur replies curtly, and starts playing with his knife and fork.

“Ah, come now, I'm sure you could manage something... how about...” the stranger looks up and down the Table and then whistles. “Oi, Lance! Pass us the toast?”

A very handsome Spanish boy nods, and passes the toast to the person next to him, and points at the Irish boy. Before long, there's a toast rack in front of Arthur's plate, and it's the most boring thing on the table.

“There ya go, princess, eat up.”

“I'm not a princess.” Arthur says crossly, grabbing a piece of toast and putting it on his plate.

“Yeah, well, neither am I.” the other boy says good-naturedly, wipes his hand on the front of his robes (the drumstick had somehow disappeared during their conversation) and holds it out for a shake. “I'm Gwaine.” he says simply, the grin never leaving his face.

“Arthur.” the blonde says, and starts picking apart his toast, but not before shaking the hand offered to him reluctantly.

Gwaine sees Arthur murdering his toast and asks, “what's got your chainmail in a twist?”

“My best friend has been Sorted into another House... wait. You just said 'chainmail'? You like knights??” Arthur asks enthusiastically.

“I should hope so, my father is one.” Gwaine replies simply.

“You still get knights???” Arthur questions, his voice going up an octave or two in excitement, and taking a bite of toast distractedly.

“Oh yes, my friend.” Gwaine claps him on the back. “You see, this is how...”

_MERLIN_

_I'shungryhungryhungryhungryyyyyyy _ his dragon whines in his head, and she flops onto his lap like she has no energy to continue. 

“Have you been taking dramatic tips from Arthur?” Merlin asks her, and she immediately makes a hissing sound that's very reminiscent of a cat throwing up a hairball. 

_Never_ she replies vehemently. 

“What's up with you and Arthur?” he questions, and she blinks purple eyes up at him innocently. 

_Nooooothing._

“Uh huh. Riiiiiiight.”

“Excuse me? Could you pass the gravy, please?” a voice asks, sounding like it's asked a good couple of times, and Merlin looks up to see a boy with brown hair in a pudding bowl cut and blue eyes sitting across from him and holding his hand out for the gravy boat.

“Don't mind him, he's flirting with his dragon.” Morgana remarks coolly, “he's been doing it all evening when he isn't flirting with his _boyfriend._” Stórie hisses at her, and she just looks down with a smirk and a raised eyebrow at Merlin's lap. “How... _cute_.” 

“Arthur is my friend. And he's a boy.” Merlin says in confusion, not understanding the negative connotation in Morgana's voice.

Morgana huffs a laugh and goes back to her plate, which seems to literally only have three string beans and a tablespoon of mashed potato on it.  _Girls._

“Excuse _me_?” the boy across from him asks, and Merlin nods, grabbing the gravy and passing it over. “I'm Merlin.” the boy introduces himself with a grin, and the other boy literally _drowns _his mash in gravy and replies with “I'm Gilli.”

“Nice to meet you, Gilli.” Merlin says, and Gilli just nods, shoving a massive amount of food in his mouth, unable to reply.

“....my father shall hear about this. My fork has got a spot of dirt on it. I can't eat with it! Goyle. Give me yours.” Merlin's big ears prick up at the sound of a voice even more prat-like than Arthur's and he leans forward. There, just a bit further down the table, on Gilli's side, is a boy with light blonde hair and ice-blue eyes. At the moment Merlin sets eyes on him, he's wrestling a fork out of the hand of a big beefy boy who's sitting on his left. 

Merlin smirks, his eyes flash as golden as his dragon's scales, and the fork (and all the forks in the boy's vicinity) disappear with an audible “pop” and shouts of surprise. 

“Oops.” Merlin mutters, not sounding very sorry. He looks up, hoping to see Arthur saw his trick, but his friend has bent his head next to a boy's with very shaggy hair, and they seem to be having a very animated conversation about knights, it seems, if the way they're 'swordfighting' with their wands under the table is anything to go by. Merlin feels a flash of jealousy, but squashes it down. Arthur is allowed more than one friend in his life, just like he is.

Soon after that, the Table transitions from savoury to pudding stuff. And there, at Merlin's elbow, is a miniature chocolate fountain, just for St ó rie. She pokes her head up from his lap, sees all that chocolate, and dives for it, sitting with her head upside down and her tongue sticking out, lapping up the rich, delicious goodness. Soon her entire face is covered in the brown liquid, and Merlin tuts fondly. She looks up in excitement, quite obviously quite hyper and says  _lookwhatI'sfoundit'ssogood_ rapidly in his mind. Merlin just chuckles, shakes his head, and reaches for a nearby chocolate eclair.

_ARTHUR_

He didn't realise how much he usually ate, and he especially didn't realise how much he ate when he was distracted. When he looked up from when he and Gwaine had a lull in conversation, half the toast rack was emptied, and his new friend looked very pleased with himself. Arthur was _just _reaching for another slice when the Table changed to pudding stuff, and his fingers found themselves in a cream dessert of some kind.

“Oops.” Arthur muttered, sounding a lot like his best friend a couple of seconds before, pulled his hand out the pudding, and started licking his fingers.

“That good, mate?” Gwaine asks, looking a little surprised at Arthur's actions, and reaching for an apple danish and a custard tureen nearby.

Arthur shrugs. “S'okay.” he mumbles, but really it's one of the best things he's ever tasted. Gwaine shrugs in agreement and digs into his own pudding.

“Bloody hell, that's _good._”

Before long the Feast is over, and it's time to head to their dormitories. Arthur was dreading this moment from the moment Merlin got Sorted into Slytherin. He also had a feeling he was most probably going to forget the Gryffindor password.

Turns out, he needn't have worried, since as soon as they arrived in their dorm (Arthur, Gwaine, Lancelot, and a boy named Elyan, who said he was Gwen's brother) Gwaine started a pillow fighting war that went into the wee hours of the night, driving all thoughts of Merlin from his mind for the first time in years.

He was going to feel guilty in the morning.

_MERLIN_

His dorm room was _cold_. Why on _earth _did the Slytherins have to live in the bloody bowels of the castle like they were rats?? Merlin pulls his blanket up around his shoulders, grabs Stórie off his bedside table (she was _not _happy, being super grumpy from her sugar crash, all she wanted to do was sleep) and curls himself around her, trying to soak up the tiny amount of heat her scales produced. That's when he remembered something from the dragon book his Dad gave him:

_Dragons are cold-blooded, so if they decide to cuddle you, or you them, they most probably just want your heat._

“Bugger.” he curses, feeling what little warmth he _had _all going to Stórie, who was now happily asleep. He could swear she was _glowing_.

He shivers.

“Stuff this.” he mutters, and sets off to go find Arthur. He doesn't get very far, however, when he walks into the Common Room, blanket around his shoulders and dragging on the floor. There, tucked against the far wall is a fireplace. And it's _lit_. He goes running over to it, nearly tripping over the rug and falling face first into the fire, and sinks to his knees in front of it. He can feel himself defrosting... he's finally warm for the first time since arriving in the Slytherin dungeons...

And, just like that, his eyes slip closed and he falls to the side, fast asleep.

His last thought before unconsciousness drags him down is to find Arthur and demand cuddles in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, Dudley IS at Hogwarts, just as his reincarnation, Gilli. How dope is that? xD


	8. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was missing Merlin. He sits up and looks around furtively. Snores surround him and he quietly gets out of bed and puts his uniform on in record time. Usually it's Merlin who comes bursting into his room at dawn to wake him, help him get dressed (Arthur is somewhat like a zombie before breakfast) and lead him to the kitchens. He spares a glance out the window to see the sky is actually quite dark, the clouds grey and sad. And that's the exact moment the rain slowly starts pattering down, hitting the window rhythmically.
> 
> Uh oh.
> 
> That's not good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TEN DAYS WITHOUT UPLOADING SHE COMES BACK WITH A CHAP(ter)
> 
> And the reason why is because I am a super-introvert in real life, and my relatives from overseas came and visited, and we visited them. Ten days in a row. Suffice to say, my batteries were drained, and I had no energy to even think about updating, and I'm not one of those who writes a chapter in advance... so yeah. They're back in the UK and I'm back to writing. Sorry for the delay. I didn't give up, I just needed sleep. xD
> 
> Enjoy, my fellow introverts, extroverts, and whatever-else-troverts. I love you all!
> 
> P.S. Longer chapter as an apology.

_ARTHUR_

Arthur wakes up the next morning with pillow feathers in his mouth and an ache in his heart like he's missing something. Used to feeling a warm body pressed against his, he finds his bed cold and empty and he blinks away tears. He hasn't slept alone since Merlin could walk and had his first nightmare...

_Camelot Castle, 8 years earlier, dark and stormy night_

“Arfur?” he's half asleep and isn't sure if he imagined the whispered squeak. There's a flash of lightning and a bolt of thunder and his room is lit up for a split second. There in the doorway is a chubby little three year old with dark hair, deep blue eyes full of tears, clutching a stuffed dragon to his chest like it's keeping him grounded in this reality. When the thunderclap burst, the little boy jumped a foot in the air and fresh tears streaked down his cheeks.

“Merwin!” Arthur replies and he wrestles his way out from under his bedclothes to run across the room to his best friend. “You 'kay? Hurt?” he questions simply, and Merlin nods and then shakes his head.

“'M okay, just had a bad dweam. You got ated by a hooge dwagon.” the younger boy says seriously, still not pronouncing his 'r's properly.

“Uh oh,” Arthur says, and then shuffles from foot to foot awkwardly while Merlin sniffles quietly. “Are we going to---” he's interrupted by another massive thunderclap, and he barely registers the whimper before his arms are full of... _Merlin_? His nose is assaulted by the smell of his best friend, sure, there's baby powder, but underneath it is something fundamentally Merlin, like the forest after the rain. The little blonde boy, though fit for his age (he started walking before Merlin, where Merlin started talking before Arthur) can't hold them both up, and they tumble to the floor in a tangle of limbs and squashed stuffed toys. _“Merlin!”_ Arthur admonishes him, and Merlin's bottom lip starts trembling and fresh tears track down his cheeks. Arthur can't stand Merlin crying, so he pulls himself up using the side of his bed, and holds his hand out to help Merlin up. He then pulls the dark-haired boy into a hug. “It's just the silly sky cwying.” Arthur explains sagely, while he strokes the back of Merlin's head like Arthur's mum does to him when he's crying, and he rather likes it. “Now, come wiv me to bed and I'll pwotect you fwom those bad dweams.”

Merlin looks up at Arthur from where his head is buried in his friend's shirt and looks at him like he's his world.”Pwomise?” he asks, blue eyes imploring, just like they do when he wants a cookie from his mother.

“Pwomise.” Arthur replies, crossing his heart, before leading his best friend to his bed, and giving him his comfiest pillow. Merlin immediately curls up, eyes fluttering shut, and Arthur lies down next to him, watching him as he slowly fell asleep. He lay there watching, for – what felt to him – like the whole night, but really, it was only about ten minutes...

_Gryffindor Dorm Room, Sept 2nd, early morning_

Arthur pulls himself from his memory with a soft smile which quickly fades once he realises why the flashback got triggered in the first place. He was missing Merlin. He sits up and looks around furtively. Snores surround him and he quietly gets out of bed and puts his uniform on in record time. Usually it's Merlin who comes bursting into his room at dawn to wake him, help him get dressed (Arthur is somewhat like a zombie before breakfast) and lead him to the kitchens. He spares a glance out the window to see the sky is actually quite dark, the clouds grey and sad. And that's the exact moment the rain slowly starts pattering down, hitting the window rhythmically.

_Uh oh._

_That's not good._

_MERLIN_

_Slytherin <strike>Dungeons</strike> Common Room, just before dawn_

Merlin woke up from a fitful sleep to see a house elf re-lighting the Common Room fire. It looked at him, winked, and put a knobbly finger to its lips before popping out of existence. Merlin sighs sadly, and it ends with a shiver. He just _cannot _get warm. Now if he had Arthur... the boy always seemed to run at a slightly hotter temperature, like he kept a dragon in his stomach. Merlin smiles, remembering...

_ Camelot Castle, six years earlier, Christmas Eve _

They've been sent to bed with strict instructions to stay there, otherwise no presents in the morning, but five year old Merlin is pretty much vibrating with excitement. He lies in bed until the house goes dark and quiet, and then he bounds out of bed, puts his gown and slippers on (it's snowing!) and goes bounding next door. He pushes the door open, and luckily it doesn't creak like it normally does.

“Arthur!” he exclaims, stripping off his gown, leaving it to puddle on the floor (**A.N – Not like that, you pervs, they're eleven years old and Fifty Shades of Grey hasn't been published yet!**) and bounds over to his best friend's bed, cannonballing on top of the covers, landing on a particularly lumpy bit.

Arthur groans but barely moves.

Merlin is now literally quivering with joy, and he tugs at his friend's duvet. Said friend now _growls, _ sticks his arm out from under the blankets and physically _yanks _his shivering friend under the covers with him.

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and sleep, would you?”

“But...!”

“Mm-mm.” Arthur mumbles in reply, pulling Merlin closer to his body heat, and the other boy melts... until he gets a mischievous smile on his face and shoves his cold toes onto Arthur's shins.

“Bloody hell, _Mer_ lin!” he shout-whispers before turning to his bedside table, opening a drawer and shoving a pair of socks into the other boy's face. With a muffled, evil-sounding giggle, Merlin shuffles around next to Arthur, who huffs with impatience – never mind Christmas tomorrow, he just wants his _sleep – _until the socks are on his feet, and they both relax into the warmth. And, well, the best present for Merlin (now he's remembering it when he's older) that Christmas was not a book with every single dragon scale off every single dragon in the world, but being held tightly against his best friend's body, so warm and safe.

_ Slytherin <strike>Dungeons</strike> Common Room, just before dawn _

While Arthur's memory made him happy, Merlin's just made him sad. He made it worse by playing through his mind what they'd be doing right now if they were back at Camelot. He'd be up, getting dressed (he was a morning person) and then going over to Arthur's room to wake the lazy lump and drag him to breakfast – most mornings quite literally, too. Merlin hears rain pattering on the roof of the Castle (how that's possible he's not entirely sure) and that's when he swipes at his cheek and realises he's crying, the tears just rolling down to wet his blanket. He decides to just give in, feeling so hopeless, and he folds his arms on his crossed legs, and just starts sobbing. And the rain intensifies, thunder rumbling overhead with every ragged breath he sucks in.

_ ST Ó RIE _

_ Slytherin Dormitory, Merlin's bed, just before dawn _

Her hooman wasn't here. He was here when she fell asleep! But he wasn't here now! She sits up in confusion, stretching and looking around the room. All the other dull boys from last night were there (including the mean, blonde-haired one who tried to pinch her tail – she bit his finger in retaliation) except the most important one in her life.

_ Merly? _ She reached out, and when she did, she felt so much sadness she nearly fell off the bed.

_ Go 'way, St ó rie _ she hears bitterly in her mind, and she _ knows _Merly is in trouble.

_ I'm coming Merly! _ She replies, and she thumps off the bed and onto the floor, not caring if she woke anyone. She pads out the dorm, her claws clicking slightly on the marble tiling, and tilts her head as she comes across the stairs down to the Common Room. Everything was so much easier when seeing it from Merly's shoulder!

She resolutely squares her wings and takes a deep breath, then slowly, ever so slowly, like a toddler learning to walk, goes down each step. It's not smooth, and she's a little embarrassed when she trips over her tail on the third last step and goes tumbling head-over-heels to land on her back at the foot of the stairs. She rights herself and looks around the Room, and sees a shuddering pile of blanket and black hair on the rug in front of the warm flickering things. Stórie runs over and nudges under his elbow to try and rub her face on his neck which she knows calms him, but Merlin firmly pushes her snout away and lets out another bitter sob. She pads over to the other side of him and tries again, but the same thing happens. She retreats to sit behind his back and puzzle the problem over, and for the first time in her life, she feels him put up a wall around his mind and block her right out.

Stórie tries and tries to break through his mental defences, but she can't and she's getting more and more panicked by the second.

And that's when the realisation hits her.

He wants the Annoying One.

_ ARTHUR _

_ Wondering the corridors of Hogwarts, early morning, ToTALlY NoT LosT _

“Not you again!” Arthur groans as he passes a particularly distinctive suit of armour he's already passed six times, and he swears he hears a “sorry to disappoint you” come gloomily out of the helmet. He'd usually ponder the meaning of a depressed suit of armour, but the rain was getting more intense, which meant Merlin was getting sadder. He wasn't sure when he realised that it rained whenever Merlin cried, but the two events coincided so often, there really wasn't a doubt, even to a self-professed “knight with very little brain” like himself.

He turned down another corridor, one he didn't recognise, and the temperature dropped. A flash of golden movement catches his eye, and he sees... _ St ó rie?? _ running up the corridor to meet him. She squeezes her eyes shut, sticks her tongue between her pearly white teeth, quite obviously concentrating very hard, and he feels something touch his mind.

_ Merlyintroublecomewithmepasswordsnakeskinboots _ a young, female voice spews into his mind, and then the feeling of being mentally probed vanishes as quickly as it appears.

“Was... was that you?” he asks in awe, and she gives him a look like _ no duh, dum-dum _before turning around and heading off down the corridor, not bothering to check if he was following.

But of course he was.

Together they rush towards the Slytherin Dungeons and by some magical miracle, even though Arthur is quite obviously a Gryffindor (either by attitude or dress, one look and you could tell) he was granted access (Seriously though, 'snakeskin boots??') and he runs into the room, scanning the area for his best friend.

His eyes pass over the blanketed lump at the far side of the room twice, but when he notices Stórie rush over to it and nudge it with her nose, he knows that's where _ Merly _is. Any other circumstance and the dark-haired boy would never hear the end of it.

Arthur slowly pads over, under the watchful eye of Stórie, carefully moving towards Merlin like he doesn't want to disturb an animal he's hunting.

Merlin is so caught up in his anguish he doesn't hear or is aware of his best friend until he feels a hand on his shoulder...

_ MERLIN _

He feels the hand rest on his shoulder and he thinks _ well, dragon dung, there goes my reputation _ but when he looks up to fight the intruder (he's sure he can think up a memory charm on the fly) his eyes meet... _ Arthur's??? _

“Arthur???” he croaks, and he throws his arms around his best friend's shoulders, burying his nose in the older boy's neck, and just cries and cries.

Arthur just sits in front of the anguished boy and pulls him into his lap, shushing and rocking him, until the tears, and rain, subside.

“What caused this?” the blonde boy asks, still happy to stroke and soothe his best friend's feelings.

Merlin pushes himself away from Arthur slightly, looks him in the eye, and says “I don't actually remember.” to which he gets an eye roll from Arthur and a nip on the ear from Stórie.

_ Don't ever block me out again, or I'll chew on something much sore-er. _She threatens, and Merlin winces at the thought, but reaches up to stroke her snout. She was on his shoulder as soon as he sat up from the fetal position he was in on the floor.

“I didn't even know I could do that.” he replies, and Arthur pipes up with “she spoke to me in my mind.”

“_St_ _ó_ _rie_ ! You can do that already?” Merlin asks in awe, and she moves her wings in what looks like a shrug and says _wasn't very hard._

Arthur just watches the exchange and shakes his head. He was never going to get used to the one-sided dragon conversations his friend constantly took part in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! ANGST!
> 
> Just kidding.
> 
> Also, fight me, I literally just came up with the personal headcanon that it rains when Merlin cries. Seems kinda legit?


	9. Quests, Lessons, Old Friends, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At this, Arthur perked up. He smelt a quest. “A... sword, you say?”
> 
> “Yes... and you know the worst thing? He... he was drunk. And doesn't remember if he dropped it somewhere or gambled it away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyooooooo! Next chapter my dudes! Enjoy!
> 
> Sorry it wasn't the day after the last chapter, I've decided to both do Christmas crafting and crocheting a Tinkerbell without a pattern for my sister and a Porg for my brother. It's the busiest I've been all year!
> 
> Also, not gonna lie, last chapter is probably my favourite so far. Hopefully I can do one better. 
> 
> Anyway, as I said, enjoy, and once again, thanks for all the love, support, comments and kudos. Love you all!

_ARTHUR_

_Corridor around the Corner from the Slytherin Common Room_

Arthur had to beat a hasty retreat out of Slytherin once there were noises coming from the dormitory and voices at the landing of the stairs. With one final, quick hug, a whispered “see you at breakfast” and a brave nod from Merlin, he snuck out. Shivering slightly at how damn _cold _it was down here, he walked up the corridor and turned the corner, a suit of armour and a tapestry all that there was to try and help him find his bearings. He walks up the corridor, something vaguely reminding him of something... ah, yes. He doubles back to stand in front of the suit of armour which sighs like it's the most depressed collection of metal protection in the world. Which it probably is. Not sure how to actually _talk_ to what is supposed to be an inanimate he hesitantly asks “are you okay..?” 

“What do you care?” the armour asks gloomily.

“Um...” 

“Normally you lot just trundle past me, ignoring poor old Rustworthy.”

“Rustworthy? Your name is  _ Rustworthy _ ?” Arthur inquires incredulously.

“Yes. And I come from a long line of them too. It used to be a proud name until... until...”

“You all... rusted?” Arthur asks hesitantly.

“No!” Rustworthy explodes, sounding more indignant than depressed, “no, not since my idiot father Rustworthy the XV went and lost our bloody family sword!”

At this, Arthur perked up. He smelt a quest. “A... sword, you say?”

“Yes... and you know the worst thing? He... he was drunk. And doesn't remember if he dropped it somewhere or gambled it away.” 

Trying not to think of either how suits of armour procreate or actually interact with society outside the Castle, Arthur squares his shoulders and nods regally. “I, Prince Arthur of Camelot accept your Quest, Lord Rustworthy.” he says formally.

“Golly.” the suit of armour replies with a sigh, and watches as the young student goes running back up the corridor, like he has a reason to live. “They all say that...”

_ MERLIN _

_ The Great Hall, breakfast _

Merlin picked at his eggs and bacon. Crying made him lose his appetite. As well as watching Gilli inhale six eggs, eight pieces of bacon and four slices of toast in about ten minutes. Shuddering lightly, the young wizard looks over to the Gryffindor table and sees... Arthur and his new friend's heads pressed together, talking as animatedly as they did the night before at the Feast. Sighing sadly, he slips a chocolate square to St ó rie who's curled up in his lap, pushes his plate aside and rests his head on his folded arms. 

_ You okay, Merly?  _ She asks while licking her lips, and he feels her nudge her snout into his stomach.

_ Not hungry. _

_ ...how??? _ to a little dragon who's constantly growing, this sort of thing is unheard of.

_ Magic _ he replies sarcastically, and closes his eyes, drifting off into a peaceful sort of doze while those around him stuff themselves with breakfast.

“...Mr. Emrys. Mr. EMRYS!” Merlin jerks awake, wiping the drool from the side of his mouth and comes face to face with a greasy-haired man in dramatic black robes. Merlin's brain just is not computing and his dragon is trying to roll herself into a ball small enough to fit in his pocket, she's so scared. “Your... timetable.” the man says, handing him a piece of parchment with a raised eyebrow and a dramatic pause between the two words for some reason. “Do try not to sleep through it.” Merlin hears titters from all around him at the Slytherin Table, and he quickly gets up, shoving St ó rie onto his shoulder with an indignant growl, ears red, and hurries out the Great Hall doors.

He leans up against the wall nearby, takes a deep, steadying breath, and mutters  _ forbearnen, _ a spell Balinor taught him at a long ago Guy Fawkes' Day. His palm lights up with a small flame, and he uses it to read his timetable, nearly catching it on fire. 

First class is... Professor Gauis? His Mum's mentor? Some crazy old dude who keeps to his potions and poultices? Since when was he a Professor at Hogwarts? Still... Merlin can't deny he's not relieved at the prospect of a familiar face (Gauis always calls on Camelot whenever anyone has any sort of ailment, and when you had a rough-and-tumble eleven year old living there, it was quite often).

Not sure where to head, Merlin just follows his feet (somehow they know where they're going) and ends up standing in front of an old oak door. In just a few moments he hears footsteps clattering up beside him, and St ó rie growl softly in his ear. Bracing himself to be facing some sort of fierce enemy or something, he comes face to face with... ARTHUR! He's so happy to see his best friend again, even though they'd parted only an hour earlier, he throws his arms around the blonde again, and St ó rie has to grumpily flutter up to Merlin's head as a perch. Arthur, though surprised, quickly hugs Merlin back, and they stand like that until the gentle sound of someone clearing their throat pulls them apart.

Turning and blushing slightly, they both turn to Gauis with radiant smiles on their faces, and the old man grins back. He steps quickly out of the doorway of his classroom, arms open and both boys run into them, giving him a hug as well. St ó rie is absolutely bewildered and perches on a nearby column, watching them through narrowed, amethyst purple eyes. 

“Come in, come in!” Gauis says, radiating friendliness and Merlin turns and gestures to St ó rie. 

_ Come on, little one, there's nothing to fear. He's a friend. _ St ó rie nods and flutters over to his outstretched arm (she's been with Merlin a week and already she's flying better) and licks his face. Merlin groans. “St ó rie!  <strike> You know that doesn't wash out </strike> !” 

Gaius laughs and tickles St ó rie under the chin, and that seems to do the trick and she relaxes. 

“So...” Arthur asks nonchalantly, opening book covers and touching potion bottles, each with a wince from Gauis, “are we early, or is the rest of the class just late?”

“Class? My boy, you  _ are  _ the class. I insisted! Now...” Gauis heads over to one of his heavy bookshelves and drags two massive tomes over to a nearby table. “This, Arthur, is for you...” 

Arthur hesitantly walks over and reads the title “GREAT KNIGHTS OF THE WORLD”. “I never want to leave!” he says enthusiastically and the old man chuckles.

“This, Merlin, is for you...” Gauis continues, and Merlin reads the title on his book, “MAGIC SPELLS AND HOW TO USE THEM”. St ó rie sneezes at all the dust in the air. “Ah, yes, and this is for you, young Dragon Miss.” the old man digs under piles of paper and random... Merlin hopes those aren't body parts of various animals, and extracts a much smaller book, covered in ancient symbols. It takes a moment, but the symbols swirl into English letters saying “HOW TO BE THE BEST DRAGON YOU CAN BE –  _ tips for clean teeth, shiny wings and flying techniques. _ ” She coos happily and Gauis opens the front cover for her. She sits in front of the book, two front legs perfectly together, head tilted to one side.

For awhile the only noise in the room is bubbling potions and pages turning. Gauis looks around the room and smiles. The year was off to a good start.


End file.
